


Fair Play

by disarm_d



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mild Painplay, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Team Canada, no actual power imbalances are abused during this fic, some other mild kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d/pseuds/disarm_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During training for the 2016 World Cup, Jonathan Toews decides to help initiate Tyler Seguin into Team Canada. Sidney Crosby’s a good captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Play

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively, from [threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn), who knows nothing about hockey: “I can tell from reading this that sidney is genuinely a good captain as well as generously allowing new guys to suck his dick,” which is really all anyone would ever need to know.
> 
> Big, big thanks to [threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn), [shuttermutt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shuttermutt), and [ambitiouspants](http://ambitiouspants.tumblr.com/) for their help betaing!!! 
> 
> If you are considering reading this story but know nothing about hockey, I have made [this very comprehensive primer](http://disarmd.tumblr.com/post/149947841980/so-i-wrote-a-story-and-dear-sweet-valencing) that features all of them in varying degrees of shirtless-to-naked. Thank u for ur consideration.  
>    
> Also, this has nothing to do with the real people whose names I have borrowed, bla bla bla, disclaimer.

Training for the World Cup was going pretty well: Tyler had spent the summer killing it at the gym as much as he was able to while still being careful not to re-sever his tendon. He was already in pretty good shape, which is why it was such an outrage when Jonathan Toews came up to him in the caf after morning skate and said, “Probably should ease up on all those potatoes, buddy.”

Tyler looked around, then pointed slowly at himself. “ _Me_?” 

Only one of them had been a naked centerfold in the Body Issue. The _Body Issue_ , not even like some BS about hockey players with good personalities -- which, by the way, Toews wouldn’t have made either. Tyler knew his complex carbohydrates. How dare anyone suggest otherwise. 

“There’s a lot of sugar in ketchup,” Toews said. 

“Dude,” Tyler said. It was one thing to take this kind of nonsense when he was the Bruins’ rookie, but Toews was no Chára. “Go fuck yourself.”

Toews put his hands in the air like, whoa, calm down there, Bessie, as if Tyler was some kind of rabid cow that needed to be soothed. Tyler let his lip curl. Toews either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He sat beside Tyler, setting down his own tray, which had salads on three different plates. All leafy green salads, too, every one with the same boring slices of plain chicken. Why did they all have to be on different plates?

“Too bad Benn couldn’t make it,” Toews said. 

For a peace offering, it wasn’t that good. “I know, man,” Tyler said. He eyed Toews, waiting for the moment when Toews did something chirp worthy, but either he hadn’t put any dressing on his various salads or he was a freakishly tidy eater. 

“You probably would have liked having him around for the initiation.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said. “I mean, what?” He felt abruptly concerned, even though he’d fucking played for Canada before and why would the World Cup be any different from Worlds? Except they hadn’t had one in twelve years and like, okay, maybe it was a bit more pressure. 

“Chin up, you’re probably going to like it anyway,” Toews said. “You finally get to suck Crosby’s dick.” 

It was not at all what Tyler was expecting to hear. His brain turned the words over a a few times to make sure that he’d actually understood correctly. That was like, yeah. His brain really chewed into the idea of sucking Crosby’s dick. Thanks, brain. 

“Umm, well.” Tyler scratched his collarbone. “Okay.”

Toews gave him a long look. It was difficult to discern the expression on his face. He was sort of like a steely pole of a human, but like faster, and more judgemental. If he watched while Tyler sucked Crosby’s dick, he probably wouldn’t be able to help himself from making comments on Tyler’s technique, like some kind of over-invested sex coach. And that would be, like. Probably not something Tyler should keep thinking about if he was going to avoid getting a boner in the middle of the cafeteria. Toews standing over him, asking him if that was really the best he could do. 

It just seemed sort of unlike Crosby, and…

“Wait, really?” Tyler finally asked.

“No,” Toews said, his stupidly deep voice sounding even stupidly deeper when he was scornful. “Not really.” 

He ate a whole cherry tomato in one bite. Tyler could feel the phantom explosion of tomato seedy-snot just watching him do it. Disgusting, but Toews just chewed away happily. He seemed like the sort of person who might bite into an uncut red pepper, holding it in his hand like it was an apple. The kind of person who liked eating raw onions. 

“You’re a real bag of dicks,” Tyler said. “Just like a heaping sack of scrotums.”

“Did you seriously think there was a chance that everyone on Team Canada sucked off Crosby? You think Giroux blew him? You think I did?”

“I don’t know your life,” Tyler said.

“No,” Toews said, managing to sound sarcastic even though he had literally zero intonation in his voice. “But good to get to know a little more about yours.”

Tyler had only sucked like half the dick that everyone said he did, but that wasn’t a very good comeback. Instead he just walked away, even though he still had at least half a dozen potato wedges on his plate. He realized belatedly that it might have seemed like he was actually listening to Toews about cutting back on the starch, and fuck that noise. Also, he thought later that afternoon when he was running through his cool down stretches and kept accidentally thinking about sucking Crosby’s dick: fuck Toews. 

Toews, who, when asked how it felt to have a lake named after him, said that it was awfully far north. Even the poor people of Manitoba were not able to make that dude happy. He should initiate his nose with Tyler’s sweaty balls. 

Tyler nodded at his spotter and started another set of reps. 

\--

Tyler was standing by the boards waiting while Crosby and Marchand ran drills when Toews skated up beside him. They ignored each other and watched Crosby feed the puck between his legs while skating backwards and then send it smoothly over to Marchand. It was fun playing with Marshy again -- not really in a nostalgic way, but Tyler just really fucking hated playing against that guy. It was also fun playing with Crosby, but the kind of fun that meant Tyler had a metaphorical hockey boner and also a literal semi from watching him practice. 

Toews made a little humming noise when Marchand’s shot bounced off the goal post. Tyler wondered if Toews cared that he wasn’t playing first line. Crosby and Marchand moved back to center line to start the drill again. 

Toews looked over at Tyler and said, “I think I convinced Crosby to let you suck his dick.” His voice was really loud considering that they were in an arena full of people. 

“Oh my god,” Tyler said. “I didn’t... I’m not. You’re the one who--!” 

“Chill,” Toews said. 

“Don’t tell Crosby that I want to suck his dick.” Tyler was already sweating from all the drills he’d been skating, but he felt suddenly more aware of how red he’d become. “And that’s not even what happened. Tell him that you want me to suck his dick.”

“No,” Toews said, sternly. “That would make it sound like I was asking for a favour for me. This way he knows it’s a favour for you.”

“Firstly, it would be a favour for fucking Crosby,” Tyler said. His upper lip had gotten exceedingly sweaty. 

“You think Sid has a lot of trouble finding someone to suck his dick?” Toews asked mildly.

“Not when your mom’s in town,” Tyler said, which is how he ended up slammed against the boards by Toews. It didn’t hurt, because Tyler was basically already leaning against them, but he almost lost his footing. He punched Toews in the stomach, once, twice, three times for luck. Toews had an excessively tight core, Tyler noticed and then tried not to notice. They grappled, and Toews started pulling Tyler’s jersey over his head. 

“There is literally no reason for you two to be checking each other,” Crosby said, coming up in front of them with a huge spray of snow. “Stop that.” 

Tyler straightened up, pulling his jersey back into place. 

“Sorry,” Tyler said. 

“Save it for the game, boys,” said Crosby and then skated away.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Toews repeated in a high voice that sounded absolutely nothing like Tyler’s. 

Tyler widened his eyes, but he didn’t hit Toews again. 

“Don’t worry,” Toews said, giving him the least friendly pat that any ass had ever recieved. “You can make it up to him later.”

“Don’t say anything to him,” Tyler said, as menacing as he knew how. He didn’t need any help getting people to let him suck their dicks, or not suck their dicks, or like, whatever Tyler wanted, he was good at making it happen. 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Toews said in a way that could have meant anything.

Tyler looked to make sure that Crosby wasn’t watching, then hip checked Toews before skating away.

\--

When Tyler answered his hotel room door at the knock, it was Toews. Tyler hadn’t been expecting him, but he’d put on a tighter pair of jeans than he would have normally worn to lounge by himself in a hotel room. 

“Come on,” Toews said. “We’re going to Sid’s room.”

“ _Tonight_?” Tyler asked, even though that wasn’t his main concern. Tonight or any other night, he was suspicious that this was some kind of elaborate hazing. Or like, it was hazing, that was undoubtedly true, but maybe it was also _hazing_ like what they warned high school kids about. Not that he thought Crosby was going to drop him or anything. Tyler’s worst case and best case scenarios were exactly the same: Toews really had talked to Crosby about Tyler sucking his dick. That was truly why they were going over there. 

“Is this how you treat all your rookies?” Tyler asked as he followed Toews down the hall. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Toews said, and then offered no further clarification. Generously, he might have meant that it was ridiculous for Tyler to refer to himself as a rookie. Tyler was, after all, an entire six months older than the Team North America cut-off. He was also pretty sure that hadn’t been what Toews meant. 

“You’re like a matchmaker. Or a pimp,” Tyler said. 

“Crosby’s not going to marry you and he’s definitely not paying you, so you probably need to check some of your expectations,” Toews said. 

“I swear to fucking god,” Tyler said, “I’m going to get Weber to practice his slapshots at your ankles.” 

“Weber wouldn’t do anything you asked,” Toews said, but there was the tiniest hint of inflection in his voice, which was the most Tyler had gotten out of him so far.

“I’m _great_ at making friends,” Tyler said. It was probably sad that this was the best threat he had in his arsenal, but, like, know thyself or whatevs. 

“Let’s put that to the test,” Toews said, before abruptly lunging at one of the doors, knocking loudly, and then letting himself in with a keycard he’d apparently kept tucked in his fist this entire time. Crosby must have given Toews his keycard. Out of everything that had happened and was theoretically about to happen, that somehow seemed like the most unbelievable part. 

Crosby was on the bed with his laptop hooked up to the TV reviewing game tape. He gave a distracted, “Hey, boys,” and then once the play had finished, he closed his laptop and said more firmly, “How’s it going?”

Tyler was sober right now, he realized with despair. He could crack into Crosby’s minibar, but he was too self-conscious to do that in case it reminded Crosby of That Time Tyler Was Traded. 

“Fine,” Toews said to Crosby. “You?”

“Can’t complain.”

They were like old men dads. Tyler looked up at the ceiling. Not even like in a sexy, _call me daddy_ , kind of way, which Tyler obviously wasn’t into, except for that one time Tyler had made a joke -- and it _was_ a joke -- when Patrick Sharp first got traded to the Stars. It was funny because Sharpy was sexy and he was a daddy, like actually, but then it actually wasn’t funny at all when Sharpy backed Tyler into the lockers and was all, “I don’t mind if you call me daddy.” It wasn’t Tyler’s fault that Sharpy took the joke too far. Tyler had to go back to his hotel room to have an objectively merited and necessary jerk off before he could meet the rest of the guys at the bar that night. After that he was pretty careful about the ways he tried to tease Sharpy and things went a lot better. 

Toews probably knew a lot about that, but Tyler knew with the certainty of one thousand blazing suns that he was never going to mention Sharpy to Toews. 

“How about you?” Crosby asked Tyler in that annoying captain’s voice of his, where it was like he was supposed to say that everything was fine to look good, but also if things weren’t good he was actually supposed to say because then Crosby would try to _help_ him or something.

Tyler was usually a witty guy. He was definitely witty every single time he took a shower and conducted imaginary interviews with himself. He was frequently witty when he was drunk on one or the other of the Benns’ couches. 

He would have liked to be witty in that particular moment as well, but instead he said: “Not everyone wants to suck your dick.” 

“But you do,” Crosby said. The worst part was that he wasn’t even mean about it. He said it so straightforwardly that it was more embarrassing that it would have been if he’d been chirping. Like it was such a foregone conclusion that there was nothing left to discuss. 

Toews snorted. 

“Ugh, whatever,” Tyler said. He took another step closer to Crosby’s bed. “Let’s do this then.”

“Come here,” Crosby said. 

Tyler hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was meant to crawl onto the foot of the bed, but Crosby was already swinging his knees over the side of the bed to sit upright, so Tyler dropped to the floor in front of him instead. It wasn’t until he was already on his knees that Tyler realized Crosby had probably been making space for Tyler to sit beside him on the bed. Whatever. If a captain didn’t make the plays clear enough ahead of time, that wasn’t Tyler’s fault.

Tyler settled his gaze on the knitted seams of Crosby’s high socks and then let his eyes work up from there. In his fucking khakis and polo shirt, Crosby looked difficult to undress. There wasn’t anything inherently more difficult to taking off khakis and a polo than there was to taking off board shorts and a t-shirt, but it _seemed_ like there would be. Jamie, with his collars cut out of his t-shirts, always looked easy to undress. Even Toews, whose shirt looked almost tauntingly soft over his obviously hard body, seemed like he would be easy to strip. 

Crosby’s pants were bulky, maybe starched, what the fuck. His polo was a polyester blend from a previous era, before humanity had learned how to convincingly imitate a breathable fabric out of manmade materials.

Tyler didn’t know how to start. He rubbed his hands against his own thighs. Toews probably thought he looked like an idiot. 

“Here,” Crosby said, pulling a pillow off the bed and passing it to Tyler. 

Tyler slid it under his knees. When he looked up, Crosby was suddenly much closer, leaning forward into Tyler’s space. 

Tyler froze. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but whatever it was, he was pretty sure he _really_ wanted it. 

Crosby leaned down the rest of the way until he could reach Tyler’s mouth. He had to bend over so far, but Crosby was an unexpectedly flexible dude. Or, like, expectedly flexible, like he was always the best at everything. 

Except that the kiss he gave Tyler was just perfunctory, so maybe that was one thing where he wasn’t the best. He pressed his lips to Tyler’s, slow and firm and dry, and that was it. Even when Tyler opened his mouth, Crosby didn’t deepen the kiss, and Tyler thought urgently, _I want to feel your tongue_ , but Crosby was already pulling away. 

He touched his hand to Tyler’s face instead, his thumb sliding up Tyler’s chin to the flare of his lower lip. Toews came and sat on the bed beside Crosby, maybe where Tyler was supposed to be sitting. But Tyler wasn’t sitting there, he was kneeling on the floor. Crosby had given him a pillow. 

Crosby pulled at his lower lip with the blunt nail of his thumb. Tyler let his mouth fall open. Crosby pet at his lip until it was dragged forward, and then he pressed his thumb to the soft, wet back of Tyler’s lip. It was more intimate than the way he’d been kissing Tyler. It made Tyler want to set his teeth into something, like a pillow or the inside of his own forearm. He thought, _Sid,_ and maybe he mumbled it too, because Sidney smiled. It seemed like it was probably fine to call him Sidney now. 

It felt dirtier that Sidney was only touching his lip, not even sliding deep so that Tyler could suck. It was like Sidney could just touch any part of Tyler’s mouth that he wanted. His other fingers spanned Tyler’s jaw. He could have made Tyler open wider, fed him his dick, but he just gave a little squeeze before letting go. 

Tyler let out a helpless little noise, like, “ _No_ ,” but already Sidney had pulled his hand away. Tyler started leaning after him and caught himself. He looked up at Toews to see if he was going to make fun, but Toews -- or maybe Jonathan, now that Tyler could see his dick fattened up in his sports shorts -- just said, “Alright, alright,” and bent down himself.

He twisted his fingers into Tyler’s hair, pulling until Tyler lifted up to meet him halfway, and held Tyler in place while he kissed him. He fucked his tongue into Tyler’s mouth, bit Tyler’s lower lip hard enough to hurt, then licked it, licked Tyler’s tongue, licked the inside of Tyler’s lip, right where Sidney had been touching before. 

Tyler sucked at his tongue greedily, let Jonathan move his head around. What a relief to finally be kissed like that. Tyler stopped feeling like he was doing this crazy thing in front of an audience and more like there were three people having sex. He had never had a threesome with two guys before, just a few with two girls and then that one with Brownie and his girlfriend that they never, ever talked about. Doing this with two guys felt pretty good. 

Jonathan pulled Tyler’s head back and back until his chin was lifted, neck exposed, then ducked even further to set his teeth against Tyler’s pulse point. He followed that with this sharp wet suck of his mouth that had Tyler’s toes curling. 

“You’re going to leave a mark,” Tyler said, his voice shaky. Jonathan didn’t let up at all. 

When he finally pulled back, Jonathan said, “Yes,” flatly. They were so close that his voice felt like a rumble in Tyler’s chest. Jonathan bit at his neck again. He eased his grip on Tyler’s hair until Tyler’s head dropped back down, gave him a little shake, and then let go. 

“Get to it then,” Jonathan said, kicking at Tyler’s ribs. Tyler had crawled toward him while they were kissing, and wasn’t kneeling on the pillow anymore. He had to reorient himself in front of Sidney. Tyler never liked wearing clothes, so he took his shirt off. He would have taken off his jeans too but that seemed a little much, like maybe you started looking desperate if you took off your pants to give a bee-j, never mind how fast and hard he’d dropped to his knees in front of Sidney in the first place. 

Tyler found the line of Sidney’s cock, hard in his khakis, and gave him a grope. The only good thing about those stupidly baggy pants is that they didn’t plaster Sidney’s dick down the way skinny jeans would have. Tyler cupped Sidney’s dick in the half circle of his hand and squeezed, feeling Sidney thicken up further. He would have liked to play with Sidney until his cock leaked through his pants because it seemed like dirty, satisfying work, but he wasn’t sure if Sidney would like that. Anyway, Tyler’s mouth was already watering, like the person he was teasing the most right now was himself. He let go of Sidney’s dick and focused on undoing his button and zipper instead. 

Sidney helped by squirming around and Jonathan helped by pulling off Sidney’s polo. Even though Tyler stopped and stared hopefully, Sidney and Jonathan didn’t kiss. But Sidney was three-quarters naked now, bare except for the pants twisted around his calves. Tyler did mean to take Sidney’s pants all the way off except before he got to it, he got a good look at Sidney’s hard cock and was immediately distracted trying to suck it as far down his throat as he could. 

Sidney sort of had an objectively perfect dick, if someone could be objective about such things. It wasn’t Tyler’s personal favorite shape of dick: Tyler inexplicably liked the ones that were kind of flat along the top, and Sidney’s dick was round, but it was like _perfectly_ round. Perfectly straight and symmetrical. It was a little thick to suck on. Tyler, who usually would opt for literally any other thing, thought about getting fucked with it, and accidentally made himself moan around Sidney’s cock. 

“You’re a little eager beaver,” Jonathan said. Then, “ _Hey_ , play nice, Seggy,” after Tyler flicked him, hard, in the kneecap. He snatched Tyler’s hand and held it in the loose circle of his fist. It was the only place anyone was touching him, except where Tyler’s chest was pressed to Sidney’s legs, and that didn’t count because it was just a logistical thing. 

Tyler held the base of Sidney’s dick with his free hand and started to bob up and down now that he had gotten it wet enough. He could taste something other than skin, a little bit of precome on the back of his tongue, and he sucked harder. He’d get Sidney off faster if he could use his other hand in there, but he probably wasn’t going to be able to make Sidney come super fast either way, so maybe it was better to save that for when his jaw got sore. Already the corners of his lips hurt from how wide his mouth was being stretched open. 

Jonathan touched along the inside of Tyler’s wrist, and Tyler felt his fingers twitch. Jonathan could push his hand down if he wanted. Make Tyler jerk him off as well. Tyler would be getting both of them off, and no one would be doing anything for him. That was typically Tyler’s least favorite way to have sex, except in this moment, when it seemed okay.

Jonathan didn’t push his hand down though, just held it in such a loose grasp that Tyler’s arm got tired because Tyler was really holding it up himself. He stopped, letting his arm go heavy, and Jonathan allowed his hand to drop away. 

“How are you doing, Segs?” Jonathan asked. “Are you feeling initiated?” 

“I told you not to call it that,” said Sidney, sounding so much like himself, even in the middle of a blowjob, that Tyler had to pull away to laugh. 

“Yup, good,” Tyler said. He coughed once to clear the thick feeling from the back of his throat. 

“Pretty sure Tyler knows this wasn’t officially sanctioned,” said Jonathan. 

“Wait, am I getting an A out of this or not?” Tyler asked, faking a little frown. He scrubbed his beard across the back of his hand to feel the prickle.

Jonathan said, “Let’s see if you swallow and then we’ll talk.”

Tyler’s eyes darted over to Jonathan and he licked his lips without meaning to. Jonathan looked smug, but he also had his big hand cupped over his cock, thumb twitching over the swishy material of his shorts. Tyler rubbed at his mouth again. 

“Real funny, boys,” Sidney said. His legs were splayed at the knee, held together at his ankles by his pants. He looked like he’d skated a couple of easy laps and was still waiting for the real warm up to start, but his cock was hard, red and wet from Tyler’s mouth. 

“Thanks, cap,” Tyler said and then helped himself back to Sidney’s dick.

The taste at the head of Sidney’s cock was sharp, salty. Tyler lingered there, chasing after it, edging the tip of his tongue along Sidney’s slit until Sidney’s thighs tightened around Tyler’s shoulders. He went further down after that, sucking Sidney off properly, one hand holding the base, the other working in tandem with his mouth. Tyler would like it if someone touched his hair right now. He probably wouldn’t mind having his face fucked a little, but Sidney’s cock was thick enough that he would choke for sure. Jonathan would probably like that. Probably Sidney too, except Sidney would never admit it. 

Tyler flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, his face wet from where his fist smeared against his mouth when he took Sidney in deep. 

Sidney’s thighs shifted and then he came, but he stayed so resolutely silent that Tyler didn’t realize he was coming until suddenly there was more in his mouth than he could comfortably swallow. At that point it was too late to pull back, so he did the best he could, choking as he tried to make his throat work with his jaw stretched so wide. He got Sidney with his teeth a little, and Sidney jolted, hissing. Tyler soothed the spot with his tongue, and that made Sidney shiver in a whole new way. 

Tyler sat back and rubbed his face against the inside of his arm. His jaw ached and he wiggled it side to side until it cracked. Sidney flopped back on the bed and scrubbed at his face with both hands. When Jonathan said, “Nice,” Sidney lifted one of his hands to bump his fist. 

“Okay,” Jonathan said, peering over the side of the bed at Tyler. “Get up here, I want to come on you.”

“Don’t make a mess on my bed,” Sidney said, still lying flat on his back. 

“I didn’t say I wanted to come on your _bed_ , jesus.”

“Guess I’m not that sure about your aim,” said Sidney while Tyler crawled onto the center of the mattress. Sidney kicked his legs up so that he was stretched out on the bed, him and Tyler lying side by side. 

“We can have a shootout tomorrow,” Jonathan said. Tyler knew they were probably talking about hockey, but he was fucking horny and in that moment he imagined that they were talking about _him_ , that he’d be back here tomorrow, holding still while Sidney and Jonathan jerked themselves off so that they could see who had better aim. His cock smeared wetly inside his underwear. 

“You first or me first?” Jonathan asked.

Tyler blinked at him stupidly, so Jonathan said, “Too slow. Me first,” and then pulled himself up so that he was kneeling over Tyler’s hips. 

He pushed down his shorts and fisted his cock, slowly at first, looking down at himself. Tyler stared as well. When he finally glanced up at Jonathan’s face, Jonathan was looking straight at him. Tyler blinked quickly, caught, but that was like entrapment or something. Jonathan obviously knew how good he looked. 

“Take off your shirt,” Tyler said. He could try to do it for Jonathan, but he had dug his fist into the mattress and it felt like his body had gotten locked into stillness. 

Jonathan played with the hem of his long sleeved t-shirt while he circled the head of his cock with his other hand, until Tyler gritted out, “Come on, Jonny.” Jonathan grinned at that, but it was quickly hidden as he pulled his shirt up over his face. 

He put his hand down on Tyler’s chest, which was good because now they were closer, never mind that it made it a little bit hard to breathe. Tyler already felt lightheaded, like holy crap he really wanted Jonathan to come on him right now. He wanted Jonathan to come, but he also just wanted to feel it, he wanted to be sticky and wet and --

In his periphery, he could see Sidney move. Tyler turned his head. Sidney had picked up his phone off the nightstand.

“You can put your game tape back on if we’re boring you,” Jonathan said, not slowing down the methodical rhythm of his hand on his dick. 

“Simmer down, buddy, I’m just setting my alarm.”

Jonathan snorted, straightening up enough to adjust his stance. He was kind of sitting on Tyler’s dick. Tyler would just have to pull his jeans down, help Jonathan take off his shorts the rest of the way, and then he could sit down on Tyler’s cock for _real_. Even if he was taking Tyler’s dick, he would probably make Tyler feel like he was the one getting fucked. And that was -- that would be fine. Tyler gritted his teeth. 

As though he could tell what Tyler was thinking, Jonathan chose that moment to pluck at Tyler’s nipple. He pinched playfully at first but then harder and harder until it was a deep ache that went straight to Tyler’s dick, still trapped in his pants, not forgotten but ignored. Jonathan scratched his way across Tyler’s chest to twist Tyler’s other nipple. Tyler scrunched his eyes closed and then forced them open, looking up at Jonathan. He was smiling, like all it took to get rid of his usual intensity was a hand on his dick and someone to pinch. 

Tyler let go of his grip on the bed and put his hands on Jonathan instead, stroked his palms up Jonathan’s thighs, his hips, reaching for his shoulders. Jonathan let Tyler pull him down, and, when Tyler curled up, met him for a kiss. As Jonathan licked at Tyler’s tongue, Tyler realized that he could probably taste Sidney’s come, but Jonathan seemed to be fine with that. 

Jonathan gasped, so Tyler lay back down, watched as Jonathan started working his dick harder. He was probably going to come soon, bearing more and more of his weight down on Tyler. 

Tyler was sweating. The sheets beneath him stuck to his back. He wanted to stay still, but he couldn’t help twisting around, trying to get more friction on his own dick. Jonathan moved with him, infuriatingly, refused to push back against Tyler. Tyler bucked, then groaned, frustrated, when Jonathan just took his hand off Tyler’s chest and used it to play with his own balls instead. 

“You’re good,” said Sidney, rolling from his back to his side so that he was facing Tyler. 

“Sid,” Tyler started, arching his back and then forcing himself flat on the bed again. He flexed his feet, digging his heels into the mattress. 

“He’s going to keep holding off if you make it fun for him,” Sidney said. He dragged his knuckles across Tyler’s heaving belly. “You shouldn’t let him see how much you want it.”

Tyler tried to settle down, but staying still made him feel like he was going to scream, so he had to thrash his head around. 

“I _can’t_ ,” he said. 

“Hmm,” Sidney said. He ran his fingertips up the line of Tyler’s abs, pinched at the skin clinging to the lowest jut of Tyler’s rib cage. His touch was casual, evaluative. Jonathan’s hand was barely moving on his cock now, just squeezing. Tyler whimpered. 

“Maybe you should try asking nicely,” Sidney said. 

“Let me come,” Tyler said, rocking his hips.

Sidney laughed, flicking at Tyler’s nipple. It wouldn’t have been anything except that Jonathan had already pinched him and he was fucking sensitive. Sidney’s touch felt like a lightning bolt. 

“He’s first, remember?” Sidney chided. He flicked at Tyler’s other nipple.

“You’re, ah, not really that helpful,” Tyler gritted out. 

“You don’t think this is turning him on?”

Sidney had, like, fucking monstrously strong fingers and when he pinched Tyler’s nipple, Tyler couldn’t hold back this half-laugh, half-groan. 

“It’s turning _you_ on,” said Sidney. He sounded very friendly, which Tyler just realized was probably a dangerous thing. 

Tyler frowned, playing it up a little. 

“You’ve got too many tattoos not to be into pain,” Sidney said. He dug his thumb into the muscle under Tyler’s collarbone and with just the pressure of his finger, made Tyler feel like he was on fire. 

“That’s okay,” Sidney said. He eased up and stroked Tyler’s skin instead. “Look, he likes it,” and, when Tyler looked up at Jonathan, it seemed like he did. 

“Come on, now. You do your part,” Sidney prompted. 

Tyler couldn’t remember what he was talking about at first, so much of his attention was on his body: the ache of his cock, the too light pressure of Jonathan above him, the places where Sidney was brushed up beside him. His chest was … not still throbbing, but singing, kinda. 

“Focus,” Sidney said, tracing his finger around the line of Tyler’s pec. 

“Fucking come already,” Tyler said. He grabbed Jonathan’s thighs and dug his thumbs into the thick line of muscle. Jonathan stilled his hand. His thighs were fucking massive. 

“That’s not asking nicely,” Sidney said. He was probably teasing, but Tyler felt, like, really susceptible right now. 

“Please come on me,” Tyler said. The trouble was that he actually meant it, and it came through in his voice. He wanted to feel it. Even if they still didn’t let him get off after this, he wanted to feel Jonathan’s come on his skin. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Sidney said, giving Tyler’s chest a little pat. “Let’s see it then, Jonny.”

“Fine,” Jonathan said, but he was already leaning down to kiss Tyler again, so Tyler felt his voice _close_ , like a quake, and then the shockwave of Jonathan’s kiss. 

Jonathan sat up again before he came, arching his back, finally jerking himself off properly, the slap of his fist on his cock. He seemed big in a way that he didn’t when he was clothed. He had a nice dick too. 

He grunted when he came, fist starting and stilling on his dick with each pulse of come. Sidney didn’t have to worry about his bed, because Jonathan got it all on Tyler, thick ropes of come from his collarbone to his navel. Tyler kept looking back and forth between his own torso and Jonathan’s cock. He looked up at Jonathan’s face, because that was pretty good too. Tyler didn’t think it had ever been such a relief to see another person come. 

“Good job,” Sidney said, while Jonathan sagged forward, panting. 

Sidney traced Tyler’s skin, fingers skirting the ropes of come. He could have pulled up the covers and gone to sleep right then without even having to wash his hands. Tyler was the only one who was a mess. He turned his head to look to Sidney. 

“My jaw’s kind of perma-fucked, so I can’t return the favour,” Sidney said. 

“That’s okay,” Tyler said, trying not to shake. He could smell Jonathan’s fucking come on him and Sidney kept touching him but also, like, _not_.

“No sense of fairness,” Jonathan said. He half slid off Tyler so he was sort of on the bed with his legs still draped over Tyler’s thighs. 

“You going to be okay like this?” Sidney said, ignoring Jonathan and finally, _finally_ , pushing his hand down to open the fly of Tyler’s jeans. 

“Yes,” Tyler squeaked as Sidney fed his dick through the hole in his boxer briefs. 

Sidney grabbed Tyler’s cock and started jerking him off, really fast and _really_ tight. Tyler cried out, couldn’t make himself be quiet even when he chewed on his lip. It was fucking intense, like Sidney wanted him to come _now_ , so Tyler did, curling in on himself with great heaving shudders. 

Sidney didn’t let up at all, like not at _all_ , and Tyler didn’t think he had ever come this hard or this long before. He lay panting on the bed for what must have been a very long time, because when he finally opened his eyes again, Sidney was fully dressed. He walked over to the other bed and stretched out with the laptop he’d been watching game tape on earlier balanced across his chest. 

Tyler made himself sit up, watching as Jonathan pulled his clothes back on. 

“Nicely done, boys,” Sidney said.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jonathan. “Come on, Segs, Captain needs his beauty sleep.”

It took half a second for Tyler to do his jeans up again. He needed to wipe off before he could put on his shirt.

He went to the bathroom, ignored the red flush from where they’d been pinching his chest and the splotches where Jonathan had bruised his neck. He wiped off with one of the hand towels and threw it to the floor of the shower.

Back in the bedroom, Tyler could hear the low chatter of commentators coming from Sidney’s laptop. Jonathan was standing by the door, ready to go. 

Tyler picked up his shirt off the floor, but before he put it on, he said, “You guys kiss first,” because if they never touched each other at all, it was less of a threesome and more like Tyler just got banged by two dudes. That was like… it was probably simpler if Tyler could label it as a threesome inside of his own head.

Jonathan sighed loud enough that he was probably just trying to be a dick, not really put out. He stood at the side of Sidney’s bed, braced himself with a hand on the mattress beside Sidney’s shoulder, and leaned in for a kiss. They were awkward together, which made this whole thing pretty embarrassing for Tyler. He probably should have been able to hold his own against two dudes that awkward. 

“That was a C-minus, a _low_ C-minus, for effort,” Tyler said. 

Sidney glanced at Tyler, then grinned up at Jonathan. “Aw, come here, baby,” he said, and cupped his hand to Jonathan’s neck. 

Jonathan pushed Sidney’s laptop aside and climbed onto the bed, his thigh sliding between Sidney’s. He arched his back, dropped his hips, grinding them together. Sidney ran his hands down Jonathan’s back and grabbed his ass with both hands. Tyler knew they were putting on a show, but it was still fucking hot. He could hear them kissing, these wet smacking sounds. One of them gasped, and -- fuck. 

When Jonathan climbed back onto his feet again, he paused to adjust his dick. He was already hard again. Tyler realized he was staring slack-jawed, but he couldn’t snap out of it. 

Jonathan walked across the room, slapped Tyler lightly across the cheek and said, “No more shows tonight. Say goodnight to Sidney.”

“Goodnight to Sidney,” Tyler echoed. He followed after Jonathan dumbly. 

“Night, boys,” Sidney said from the far bed.

“I’m leaving your keycard on the dresser,” Jonathan said. Then, to Tyler, “You need to actually put that on.”

Tyler looked down at the shirt he was holding loosely in his hand. He put it back on and then was led by Jonathan out the door and down the corridor. 

As they walked, Tyler started to feel less sex-stupid and more tired. He would have walked past his own hotel room if Jonathan hadn’t stopped him with a hand to his elbow, jerking him in the right direction. 

In front of the door, Tyler paused to pat at his pockets, trying to remember where he’d put his keycard. 

“So, you’re welcome,” Jonathan said. He was really close beside Tyler, his voice low in the silence of the hallway. 

“Fucking dickbag,” Tyler said without heat. His voice was raspy from all the time he had spent sucking Sidney’s dick. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes, but then he looked carefully from one side to the other, checking to make sure the hallway was empty, before he pushed Tyler up against the door, ducking down for a last kiss. He wasn’t even that much taller than Tyler, but Tyler’s legs weren’t feeling super steady at that moment. His joints were soft; lips raw, used. Jonathan was going to get beard burn if he kept kissing Tyler that deeply. 

Before he pulled away, Jonathan bit Tyler’s neck one last time. It must have been over one of the bruises he’d left, because the pressure of his teeth fucking _resonated_.

“Don’t get me all worked up again,” Tyler complained, shoving weakly at Jonathan’s chest, but that just made Jonathan laugh. 

He reached around to grope Tyler’s ass, which -- what did Tyler _just_ fucking say? But when he pulled away, he was holding Tyler’s keycard. 

He handed it to Tyler, said, “See you in practice tomorrow,” and walked off. 

After the fifth try, Tyler was able to get his door open. He stripped off all his clothes and climbed naked into his own bed, and even though he fully intended on jerking off, the second his head hit the pillow he was out like a fucking light. 

\--

Jonathan skated up to Tyler at practice the next day and, without warning, punched Tyler right in the pec. Right in the _nipple_ , but at least he wasn’t doing anything too obvious with so many people around. 

“Clench up, Segs,” Jonathan said. 

“Thanks for that,” Tyler said. The hit had woken up a lingering ache, which was worse now than it would have been had Tyler not spent twenty minutes in the shower that morning pinching at his own nipples while he jerked himself off. 

“So, are you feeling initiated?” Jonathan asked. Maybe Tyler should’ve been thinking of him as Toews again, especially when they were standing on the ice. They were talking about sex, though. 

Tyler looked over at Jonathan, kept his face steady and said, “Nope.”

Jonathan looked over at him sharply, but when Tyler let his lip curl into a half smile, Jonathan’s expression steadied. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, “ Jonathan said. Tyler could feel the body memory of Jonathan whispering in his ear last night, and he had to lock his knees so he didn’t sway on his skates. 

Tyler nodded, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. 

He nodded again when Jonathan said, “Guess I should talk to the captain.”

**Author's Note:**

> From The Very Secret Beta Notes of [Threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn): _here comes the [orgasm] DENIAL how shocking_
> 
> I'm over [here on tumblr](http://disarmd.tumblr.com).


End file.
